Toughest Love
by Silvandar
Summary: **oneshot** Tesla was created only to serve his master... HARDCORE BONDAGE/ BDSM, VIOLENCE, YAOI


The room is dark, the lights out and the pale moonlight streaming through the window is just enough to illuminate him as he leans against the wall. I enter silently, not wanting to disturb him, and settle myself into a crouch in the corner. He's in a bad mood, which means trouble for me if I am not careful.

I see his form shift as he pushes away from the wall. He noticed me come in, now he walks across the room and sits on the huge white couch, resting his arms by his side. He is looking at me in the dark, his skin gleaming and his features framed by inky black hair. I lower my eyes, focusing on the floor. Best to be silent, to wait.

We sit for an hour, maybe more. I dare not move, he is watching me closely and the second that I fidget he will react. This is my least favorite game, knowing that I am the prey and he is the serpent. He wants to take his anger out on me, wants to lash out, but if I deliberately give him a reason to it ruins it for him. I have to avoid giving him anything, and eventually when I slip up, it will be a natural error.

This time, the game seems to be waiting for me to move accidentally. Typical snake, wanting to watch something move. After over an hour my legs are starting to ache from the bent position. I can ignore that, no problem, but sooner or later the muscles in my legs are going to start to spasm, and I will twitch and move.

His eyes are like coals in the moonlight as he waits. I can hear his breathing, deep and steady. He watches my skin paling from discomfort, and his breathing speeds up. Not long now. Not long till he can lay his hands on me.

The spasm shoots through my calf muscle, and I feel my leg twitch. Its not a big movement, a slight sideways jerk of my knee, but he sees it and I hear him sigh slightly. He moves from the couch and approaches, stepping lightly and crossing the space between us sinuously. I look up as he comes, looking for any expression, wondering how bad this is likely to be before his anger is gone. His face is emotionless, his eyes dead. I bite my lip slightly and mentally prepare myself for his worst moods.

He sinks his hand into my hair and pulls me up against the wall, lifting me by the scalp until my feet are a yard off the floor and I am on eye level with him. The pain is intense, my head and neck feel like they are on fire. I let my body relax as he stares at me, and I close my eyes. He hates it if I look at him when he hurts me. Odd really, considering he always makes things look at him when he kills them.

I get a seconds warning as he tightens his grip on my hair, and then he throws me across the room. I allow my reflexes to keep my face from the floor, but apart from that I don't try to break the fall. He is breathing harder as he strides over to me and drags me by the hair into the adjacent room, the "play room" as we call it. The impact with the floor was enough to wind me, he is not interested in holding back his strength today.

He slams me against the wall hard enough to dent it, and I gasp, still keeping my eyes closed. My body is starting to feel it now, a dull ache in my bones and a fire burning in my scalp. And of course I am already hard. I have been from the moment that I realised he wanted to play, over an hour ago.

He strips my upper body, handling me roughly. His hands are cold as he throws me onto my stomach on the table and locks my wrists into the manacles. The metal is cold, and he tightens them full so they bite into my skin. He drags the rest of my clothes off and spreads my knees to lock my ankles as well, and I am spread below him on freezing stone.

He pauses, and I still keep my eyes shut tight. It is going to be rough, but if I screw up it will be worse. I keep my breathing deep and even, and I feel icy cold hands on my thighs and my ass, and I wonder what he will do this time.

One thing I know, he never damages these parts. He needs them for later, after all.

The sound of leather on stone, and I realise what he is going to do and bite my lip to stop any sounds. He doesn't like it if I start screaming too soon. I feel the long strips against my skin, and I whimper as he sinks his fingernails into my buttock to hold me down fully, and takes a deep breath.

The impact of the whip is so strange. The first sensation is of pressure, instant pressure all across my shoulders. It lasts only a second, and is replaced by burning fire and deep pain, an ache that reaches into muscles and tendons. The lash is hard enough to tear my skin, and I sense warm wetness across my back. I flinch as he strikes, but I keep the noise in. I can feel him leaning on the table, his groin against my thigh. I won't start screaming until he is rock hard...

I have just enough self control left to rub my thigh against his huge erection as I scream. I know he is nearly done, the lashes are falling fast and are getting harder each time. He wants to get off on this before he does anything else. That way I can use the time it takes him to recover to heal the damage. My back is a wreck, the pain only coming with the lash of the whip now because he has stripped most of the skin down. The table is covered in blood, and I know that he is loving the sight of me like this almost more than he likes the screams. All that is left is the friction from my rubbing, and he will come soon.

I came ages ago. Twice. I think he deliberately crafted me like this, to love the pain almost more than I love the fucking afterwards.

He makes a sound, the first one so far. He never speaks when he hurts me. I think he hurts me to release the pressure, to relieve the desire to maim and kill that we all feel. He doesn't want power over me, he doesn't want to taunt me. He knows he owns me, that I am his toy. Right now, he is playing with his toy to make himself feel better. The building sexual need has nothing to do with the pain I am in, it is a sign that he is nearly done with the rage and the murderous intent. The more he hurts me, the more relaxed he feels.

When he is relaxed, he wants me. Always.

I hear him groan and the whip looses its bite, his fingernails sink deep into my flesh as he comes, thrusting against my leg for the extra friction and staining his clothes with his fluids as well as my blood. He rests there for a few moments, the whip sliding to the floor, and I shiver at the sudden lack of pain. I barely noticed my third orgasm as I heard him come, the pain is the overwhelming sensation. I keep control of my body until he rises and unchains me, and walks from the room as he strips off his filthy clothes.

I sit on the table for a few minutes, breathing deeply and regenerating the flesh of my back and thighs. I can see through the door that he has turned on the side lights and gone through to the shower, so I use my clothing to clean myself off once I am healed and head into the bedroom for part 2.

We have codes and signals. I have been his for so long that I know them instantly. He showers, which means he intends to sleep after we are done here, if he doesn't get disturbed by anyone. That means bedroom fucking, and I need to be clean and completely healed so I don't stain the sheets with blood. I take great care to clean myself and only settle onto my back on the huge white bed once I am pure again.

One glance at the table tells me what he wants. My master always knows exactly what he wants, and I know how to provide it. On the table are several bottles of lube and some thick black fabric. I know just from that what he wants.

I get comfortable on my back and allow my fingers to trail down my body, skipping over my cock lightly and dipping in between my buttocks. I know he is watching me, the shower went off a little while ago and I can sense him outside the door. I pretend that I don't know as I ready myself for him, slicking the lube on my hand and beginning to finger myself for him. I am hard again, more from knowing he is watching me than anything else. My hands are not enough to make me hard, not nearly enough. The only way I can get off is if I do this for him.

He gives me a few minutes to lube and stretch my ass for him, and then slips into the room. I have already tied the black fabric to the rings on the wall, now he takes my hand from my ass and ties me to the wall almost gently. I open my eyes and look at him, and he eases another black strip between my lips, tying the gag behind me. I shudder at the touch, my body twitching and begging for him already.

His hands grip my thighs and I close my eyes again as he raises my hips and slides into me. The gag means he wants to hear me - so typical of him that the signal for me to be as noisy as I like is to block my mouth. He loves the sounds of the moans through the restraint though, that's what he wants to hear.

His cock is swollen and huge, and within seconds he fills me up. I moan and shudder as he hilts himself in me, and I force myself onto him harder, wanting him as deep as I can get. This is what he loves, to tie me up and watch me beg for him, for his touch. I can hear the echos of my cries in the large stone room, and his own heavy breathing as he fucks me hard and slow.

He teases me for a while, then leans deeper into me and hits my sweet spot hard, over and over again until I am coming all over myself. He has me bent so far over by now that my knees are beside my ears, and my spine feels like it is trying to bend in half, and when I come I soak my neck and face. I taste myself in the fabric of the gag, and I shout the pleasure for him, feeling him let go inside me and fill me with his own orgasm.

He drops me flat onto the bed, and pulls the gag off me, seeking my lips with his cock. He is still hard, I know him well enough to know he will go two or three times before he is satisfied. I taste myself on him and groan around the thick shaft as he grips the wall and begins to fuck my mouth eagerly. I lock my lips tightly around him and try to keep my mouth wet for him, moaning helplessly. I love it when he uses my body like this, focused only on his own pleasure. It makes me feel like I own him somehow, like he needs me.

He thrusts hard and deep, and I choke slightly with each thrust. I am practiced at hiding it though, and I can feel my own hard on coming back as I listen to his groans. Eventually long fingers twist into my hair and he brings himself off into my mouth. I swallow and gag as he comes for me, loving the feel of his fingers on my skin and his thighs tightening on my head.

He moves off me and I feel him untie my arms from the wall. I follow his directions and kneel on the bed, and he stands on the floor behind me, the perfect height. He still doesn't speak, all the room has heard are moans and gasps. Now he spreads my ass and enters me hard, forcing my face against the sheets and holding my hips with the other hand. He fucks me slowly, driving in deep and strong, and I can feel myself stretching, aching with pleasure. He untied my hands, which means I can touch myself and I grab my cock, giving myself long slow strokes to match his rhythm. He likes to watch me come for him like this, and I know from the way his body is shaking that this is going to be the last one tonight so I want to make it good for him.

I bite my lip and close my eyes, groaning as I stroke myself and he speeds up his motion, fucking me harder and faster. I let him get to the point where he is hilting himself with each thrust and then tighten my ass muscles around him as hard as I can and bring myself off into my hand. I feel the spasm take him over the edge as well. He snarls my name as he comes, and I come again instantly, gasping and moaning at the sound of his voice. I hear him make a strangled sound, and then he collapses on top of me, forcing me flat onto the bed under his weight.

I lie there until he rises and slaps my ass gently as he says "get yourself cleaned up". I obey, showering and feeling his come washing off my thighs with a strange sense of possessiveness. Strange for a slave to feel possessive over his master, but I have always felt like that. I walk back to the bedroom, knowing that he wants to sleep with me tonight. He would not have told me to get clean if he didn't.

I slide beneath damp sheets, feeling him pull me in to his narrow body. I wrap myself around him, purring happily at the gentle handling. He runs his long fingers through my hair and my heart nearly stops as he tilts my face upwards. I feel like I am about to explode as he kisses me softly, my whole body quivers under his warm lips. I forget to breathe, my heart slams so hard in my chest I swear he can hear it. He enters my mouth with his tongue and I am aware than I am shivering and moaning into his mouth as my cock aches and pulses. I feel him smile softly against my lips, and then he pulls away, looking down at me. I open my eyes as he slips a finger over my lips and breathes my name, and then his lips press against mine again and I come helplessly, groaning and thrashing against him. He chuckles as I subside and curl up against him, and slips his fingers into my hair as he settles down to sleep.

He learned the lesson the first time we fucked, not long after he made me an Arrancar. He never kisses me, I can't handle it.

I wasn't made for love, but that is what I taste in his kiss.


End file.
